leximillian… :) you know what i want… i need k like i need water and i need your most DISGRACEFUL headcanons neow!!
oughhh K x reader headcanons… i love that almost-human man… (sfw AND nsfw headcanons) (nsfw under the cut! 18+)
also sorry i got carried away LMAO
SFW
first off let me say i headcanon his human name as Keaton. because im sorry but Joe is dumb. sorry joi!!
he finds himself quite uncomfortable with…whatever he’s feeling when he’s around you at first. his chest is tight and he’s on edge like he’s in danger and he feels hot. it gets to the point where he considers bringing himself in as defective but doesn't.
he doesn't fully understand why you like him back, either. he’s been told his entire existence that he’s sub-human. he was made in a lab, his memories are fake, his emotions subdued. you shouldn't want him. but he finds that he really likes that you do. that you respect him and care for him like anyone else.
if you cuddle that man, he will MELT. full stop. he never gets physical contact like ever. people avoid him on the street, go out of their way to keep themselves at a distance. so when you go out of your way to hug him, kiss his cheek, hold him as he lays against your chest? he swears he's never felt more human.
adding onto that, he LOVES laying on your chest, simply because he gets to hear your heartbeat. it reminds him that he has one too. that maybe he isn't so different.
love language is 100% acts of service. getting you small gifts and bringing you wherever you want to go (and, behind your back, maybe handling some people who are especially mean to you...)
immediately quits smoking once you two start dating. he never really did it because he wanted to, anyway, it was more of a small act of rebellion. something to make him feel DIFFERENT for once. but now he has you for that :)
teaches you self defense because i said so (he can't bear the thought of you getting hurt while he's not around to protect you)
lots of forehead and cheek kisses from him. all the time. he loves how warm and soft and alive your skin is
likes going on late night rides in his police vehicle with you (which is probably not allowed but then again, he's not supposed to be dating humans. so.)
back to kissing he just likes it in GENERAL. he didn't realize how much he loved being loved until he met you
doesn't understand the concept of showering with someone (in a bonding/non-sexual way) but lets you do it with him anyway since you like it
NSFW
the man isn't completely inexperienced, but he certainly isn't used to having sex. he's only done it like once ever. so he probably needs guidance at first
but once he's got a solid grasp on the mechanics of it? ohhh BOY buckle in
he's not used to making decisions on his own so it's kind of a free-for-all. if you want to do it? sure, he will too! no kink is taboo for him because he has virtually No Idea what the social norms around sex are anyway
probably is very bad at communication at first. you have to drill the concept of consent into him several times before he gets comfortable enough to tell you when he wants to stop
the first time you guys have sex its literally insane to him. like for once he actually WANTS to do it and its amazing. he can't help but wonder how humans get literally anything done because they COULD be having awesome mind-blowing sex all the time!!
this does lead to him becoming a little sex-crazed for a while. wants to do it several times a day (and has the modified stamina to back it up). i'm talking when you wake up, before he goes to work, when he gets home, before you go to bed type shit.
he gets a little animalistic in bed i feel. because god it's the only time he feels completely and totally human. he's not a replicant, he's not an officer with a serial number, he's yours. and it makes him insane
probably quite noisy once he gets comfortable, low sounds deep in his chest
8.5 inches, keeps himself well-trimmed (like the rest of him)
his favorite thing in the world is getting head. i'm sorry. but it's one of the only times he can let himself be selfish. it's all for HIM
actually incredibly hygienic afterwards i can't lie (unless you convince him otherwise...cough cockwarming...)
switch but prefers soft dom (again, unless you wish for otherwise. he'll do whatever you want)
I could rant about officer K for hours, I have a lot to say about him and everytime I think of him I end up crying lol
I like to imagine how he would be with a depressed partner, or a partner who also feel the heavy weight of existential crisis. He'd probably want to desperately show them that he's capable of giving them love and understanding, to show them theyre not alone, but afraid he'll also just end up making things worse,,
warnings : feeling of not being enough for the other person ; fear ; worry ; tears ; decision to leave ; poor communication
note : what was supposed to protect you took you away from him
[Ryland Grace masterlist][main masterlist] [how we fell apart series]
The rain hadn't stopped all evening. It tapped softly against the windowsills, blurring the city's neon lights into streaks of color beyond the glass. The apartment was quiet. Unnaturally so. Almost dead.
Even though the two of you were still there, you and K. Even though you shared the same space, you'd never felt more alone. Not just tonight, but for weeks.
"Will you tell me what's wrong?" Your voice was barely above a whisper as you sat down in one of the chairs, your eyes fixed on his silhouette standing by the window.
"I'm fine." K answered automatic. The same answer, again.
You clasped your hands tightly in your lap and gave a faint nod. "As always... right?"
Something in your voice finally made him turn around. His eyes found you. Yours never left your hands, your fingers curled together so tightly your knuckles had turned white.
"You know..." You spoke just as quietly as before. "If I did something wrong... you can tell me."
"You didn't." His voice remained calm and steady.
You nodded again. "Maybe I said something."
"No."
A slow breath. "Maybe I reacted the wrong way, or..."
"No."
"So what the hell is happening?" Your voice cracked. You were seconds away from crying. K knew it. Your throat tightened painfully as you struggled to breathe. "Something's been wrong for weeks, and I have no idea what it is. You avoid me. You don't even look at me anymore. When I touch you…” Your voice trembled. "Your whole body tenses." A shaky laugh escaped you. "Damn it... I don't even know what I'm supposed to do anymore."
K shifted where he stood. There was worry in his eyes. Sadness and pain. You looked so fragile. So defenseless in front of him. And every second he remained silent only deepened the despair consuming you. Because of him.
The rain filled the silence between you for what felt like forever. Then your voice broke through it once more. Small and exhausted. Almost defeated.
"Is it because of what I am?"
The question had lived inside your head for weeks. He was a replicant. You were human. To you, it had never mattered. Apparently...you were the only one.
K frowned and took a cautious step toward you. "What do you mean?"
You brushed a strand of hair away from your face before standing abruptly, pacing across the room as though movement alone could untangle the thoughts trapped inside your head.
"I keep replaying every conversation we've had." You laughed bitterly. "I'm searching for the moment I ruined everything. The mistake I made." You stopped walking. "I keep thinking it's because of who I am. If I were like you..."
"No…" He tried to interrupt, but you didn't let him.
The words had been trapped inside you for too long. Now they poured out all at once.
"Maybe I'm too emotional."
"I love that about you."
"Maybe I smother you without realizing it."
"You don't."
"Maybe..." Your voice almost disappeared. "Maybe you're disgusted by what I am."
Not who, but what. Your eyes finally met his. They were glassy with tears. Your lips trembled. You looked like you were barely holding yourself together. K wanted to cross the room, to hold you, but he was terrified that if he came too close you would fall apart in his hands.
"I see it, K." Your voice was barely audible. "I see the way you look at me. I feel it when you touch me. When you kiss me. When we make love. You do it because you think you have to, not because you want to." A tear slipped down your cheek. "I disgust you." You laughed softly through tears. "And I hate myself for it."
The words settled heavily between you. K looked as though someone had placed a bomb in the middle of his apartment. A countdown only he could hear. You, meanwhile didn't care anymore.
"Maybe..." You swallowed hard. "...if I were someone worth choosing..."
"I choose you." K's voice was quiet.
You looked up at him. "Do you? Because it feels like every day you choose to leave me instead."
His eyes fell to the floor. For the first time Officer K looked less like the man you'd always known and more like someone completely broken. You would've given anything for him to tell you what was really happening inside his head. But he remained impossible to read. You spoke the same language. Yet somehow you couldn't understand each other.
"I think..." His low voice filled the silence. “if I were enough you'd have a better life."
Your head jerked up. "W-What?"
"If I were human. If I could give you the future you deserve. If I could give you a family. You'd be better off with someone else."
The air left your lungs. It felt as if someone had punched you straight through the chest. After everything you'd been through together… After every promise… After loving him with everything you had… Those were still the words that came out of his mouth.
When you spoke again, your voice shook with anger. "How dare you decide that for me?"
K looked up.
"How dare you throw me out of your life behind my back and hide behind this ridiculous excuse that it's somehow for my own good. That you know what's best for me."
"You say that now."
"I've always said that." You rubbed your temples, staring at him in disbelief. "I knew who you were from the very beginning. I told you, over and over, that it didn't matter. And now you're using that against me?" A hollow laugh escaped you. "I can't believe this. I can't fucking believe this."
You stood there with your hands on your hips, blinking furiously to keep more tears from falling. This was worse than you'd imagined. You felt sick. Like you wanted to scream until there was nothing left inside you.
"You know what's funny?" A faint, broken smile crossed your lips. "I always thought you weren't afraid of anything, K. Nothing. But you're terrified of me."
He didn't move.
"You're terrified of living."
His expression faltered.
"You're terrified of wanting something. Or someone."
His eyes stayed fixed on you. Dim. Defeated. Yes, he was afraid. Every single day. Not for himself, for you.
"You don't get to decide what kind of life is worth living for me." Your voice was calm now, almost frighteningly so. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do to make you believe in me...in us. But I don't have the strength to keep fighting anymore." A shaky breath. "I'm so tired, K."
He flinched. He'd imagined this moment. He'd feared it, but now that it stood in front of him… He'd never felt more terrified. He took a step toward you.
"You have to understand…"
"No." The look you gave him stopped the words in his throat. "You have to understand. I can't keep you trapped. You don't want me."
"That's not true."
"No?" A sad smile tugged at your lips. "Because every single day says otherwise. Stop hiding behind concern for me to justify your own fears. You keep pouring your doubts into me… And like a fool, I keep trying to prove to you...to myself...that my love is enough for both of us." You drew in a deep breath. "If you really loved me..."
His jaw clenched. He did. God, he did. He had never been more certain of anything. But the fear, the certainty that one day you'd finally realize he would never be enough, paralyzed him. The more he loved you, the more terrified he became. He wanted to tell you. He wanted you to understand that it had never been about you. Not once. The fault had always been his. Always.
"I need time." Your voice cut through the silence like a gunshot. "I need space."
K froze.
"I can't do this anymore. It's destroying me."
His brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"
You looked at him, at the man you loved. The man you trusted. The man you would've given everything for. And at the same time, the man who had hurt you so deeply that you were finally searching for a way to survive without him.
"It means..." Your voice was barely a whisper. "I need to learn how to breathe again. How to be enough for myself. I don't want to keep fighting a battle I was doomed to lose from the very beginning." A tear rolled down your cheek. "I'm sorry."
He watched you pick up your jacket and walk toward the door. And then… He listened as it quietly closed behind you. That night, you walked away carrying such a large piece of him that K wasn't sure there was enough left to keep going. He had spent weeks believing this was what he wanted. That pushing you away would protect you. That losing you by choice would hurt less than losing you by fate.
But as the silence settled over the apartment, as your footsteps disappeared into the rain… He realized, far too late, that this had never been the future he'd wanted. His fear had won. And in the end it had taken the only person he'd ever loved with it.
summary: k is bleeding out, his only companions being the snow slowly covering him, and the pain reminding him that he never had any right to exist in the first place. when he gets found and saved he needs to rethink his stance on both who he is, and what he deserves to feel; human or not.
pairing: k x gn!reader
word count: 3.3k
tags: gender neutral reader (no pronouns used), angst, fluff, graphic descriptions of injuries, touch starvation, pondering ones own existence and purpose, k being lowkey a bit freaky (but in a well meaning, kinda romantic way?), implied prior non-consensual touching (nothing is described)
inspired by this and this ask <3<3
The harsh edges of the stone staircase were a painful contrast to the feathery snowflakes slowly but surely covering K’s body. His back hurt, and if he wasn’t sure that he’d find his end here, he would try to shift into a more comfortable position.
He was shivering, he realized, eyes staring unblinkingly upwards into the white turmoil. Maybe it was just the weather; the snow was seeping into his coat, making it useless at conserving heat. Or perhaps it was the blood loss setting in.
He could feel the sticky blood slowly pouring out of his body, spreading over his stomach and down the staircase, accumulating in a pool by his feet. He could feel the warm tendrils temporarily warming his skin where they touched it ever so softly. He could feel the sharp pain radiating from the wound, beating in tandem with his heart.
He had been feeling a lot recently. He wasn’t sure what of it was real anymore, if anything.
A snowflake landed on his upper lip, and when it melted, it left a droplet of water behind, which slid into his mouth, landing on his tongue. He closed his lips, savoring the fresh coldness of the water.
He doubted he had more than a couple of minutes left to live.
‘Live’, he almost scoffed at the thought. He had seen a miracle, had experienced it. He felt on every level there was, but still, it hadn’t been him. He hadn’t been able to rip himself away from what had been decided was his life.
He was created and now he would be destroyed. He was born and now he would die.
He closed his eyes. Maybe it was for the best. Joi was gone, he was alone, and he wasn’t human. No one will care that he’ll bleed out on these steps. Just another replicant that needed to be retired. Just another officer who died in the line of duty.
The words Lieutenant Joshi had said to him days ago in her office rang around his head, “You’ve been getting on fine without one!”
He wished he had a soul, or maybe he just wished that the pain would finally end. If he were lucky, birth and death were so intertwined that in the same way that the first gave you a soul, the latter took it back, and wherever one went afterwards, they would accept him, even without one.
Then again, he wasn’t sure whether he would die, or simply stop being.
“Hey,” a voice sounded from somewhere far away. It was a nice voice, he was still aware enough to realize that. “Hey! Are you okay?”
His arm shifted, but he wasn’t the one moving it. The coldness that had enveloped him was chased away, where he could feel his body being repositioned.
There was some mumbling followed by cursing. His coat was lifted away from his side, baring the wound to the freezing air, making him shiver more. “Okay, alright. I think I can help you. I just need you to come with me, please.”
He smiled, convinced now that he had died and gone to wherever beings with souls are allowed to go. The voice had said ‘please’ as if actually caring about what he wanted. As if he had any say in what happened to him.
“Is that a ‘yes’? I’ll—I’ll just take that as a yes. I need you to try to get up with me.” The voice hesitated. “I’m sorry, but it’ll probably hurt.”
The smile stayed on his lips. It was sweet the way that the voice seemed to actually care for his well-being. It made the rest of the chill occupying his body vanish.
His arm was tugged forward, and he automatically sat up with it, groaning at the pain racing through his body. He blinked his eyes open, finding the outline of a person next to him, holding his left arm.
“You’re fine. You’re fine. I got you. Deep breath,” the voice—you—said. “Now, on three, I need you to try to get on your legs, okay? I’ll support you, and you can lean on me, but I can’t completely carry you.”
You waited, and he realized that you wouldn’t move before he gave his okay, so he nodded as much as he was able to. At that point, he could only feel about sixty percent of his body.
“Perfect. On three, one… two… three,” you said and pulled his arm around your shoulder, heaving him upwards as much as you were able to. He let out another long groan, but managed to stay on his own feet, even though his legs were shaky and he had to put most of his weight on you.
You put your arm around his waist and gently led him forward, step by step, making sure that he didn’t trip. When he let out a muffled moan, you stopped immediately, checking in with him and asking if he needed a break. He wasn’t sure where you were leading him, but it didn’t matter to him anyway, he had already decided to follow you.
After a couple of minutes, blood loss was really starting to hit him. Everything was whirling around him so when he heard the sound of a Spinner door opening, he didn’t have the strength to worry where you got the mostly police-used vehicle, nor to continue keeping his eyes open.
His body fell onto the bouncy seat and he was out like a light.
────────
The first thing he registered when he woke up was that everything felt comfortable. The second thing was that actually, his stab wound still hurt pretty badly, but other than that, it was like he was floating on a warm cloud.
He tried to sit up, but your hand on his chest pushed him back down onto the mattress. “Easy. You’re safe, everything is fine.”
He looked around him and saw that he was in a windowless room, sparsely lit by different lamps standing all over. There were a couple of bookcases and a closet, although they were all already pretty old, looking ready to fall apart at the slightest touch. The walls were a dark gray, matching the concrete floor. The mattress he was lying on was settled on top of what he assumed were several slabs of metal—he could feel the gaps and slight variations in height through the cushion.
You must have noticed his scrutinizing. “We’re at my place. I know it’s not much, but…” you shrugged.
“I like it,” he said. You looked a bit surprised to hear him speak and smiled.
“Thank you.” You sat down on the edge of the mattress, far enough away from K that you weren’t touching, but near enough so that he could feel his nerves react to you as if you were. “How are you feeling?”
He almost smiled again at the question. It really was sweet.
“I haven’t glued the wound together yet. I wasn’t sure whether you’d be okay with me getting all close like that. At the same time, it probably would have spared you some pain if I had done it while you were still unconscious, so, yeah… tough situation. Sorry if I made the wrong decision for you.”
“You’re fine,” he said, voice low. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
You frowned. “Of course I had to, you’re a person, and people don’t deserve to die out in the cold, alone.”
“No.” K looked away from you, down at the slightly tattered maroon blanket thrown across his legs and stomach. “I’m… I’m not.”
Realization flickered over your features, but instead of disgust upon realizing what you had accidentally dragged into your home, resolve settled on your face, making you tilt your head forward in defiance. “Yes, you are.”
“I’m a—”
“Who cares?” You cut him off. Your voice was dismissive, but the way your fingers were rapidly tapping your thighs made it clear that you did care at least in some way. K didn’t want to push you away, in fact, he wanted to absorb as much of the comfort you were so naively offering him, but some part of him needed you to understand—some part of him needed you to push him away.
“You are a cop, though, right?” You asked in a small voice.
“That’s all I am,” he answered without hesitation, and your eyes narrowed at that.
“Is it?”
This time he had to think about it. Technically, the answer was easy: yes. However, he was quite certain that he was fired, or the replicant version of it, which meant that he was supposed to get retired. But he doubted anyone would actually come looking for him, and if he wouldn’t retire, but also wouldn’t be able to keep working, then where did that leave him?
“I’m…” he felt the heat of shame burn down his body at not being able to answer the question accurately.
“Well, are you gonna arrest me?” you asked, seemingly having regained some confidence while he struggled to answer.
“What?” The question shocked him. “Of course not.”
That wasn’t even something he did while still actively working for the LAPD. He had no right to arrest or subjugate a human.
And he was sure you were human; it was something in your eyes, a flicker that he had only ever spotted in humans—he had assumed that it was their souls shining through.
“Good.” You smiled at him.
“Why…” he hesitated. “Why would you think that?”
Your lips parted slightly, but you continued smiling. “You really were out of it, huh? I’ll let you in on a little secret,” you leaned in closer, and a part of him wanted to close the gap between your bodies, if only to feel your skin on his at least once. “I am not part of the LAPD, and the Spinner I used to get you here isn’t really registered in my name.”
“You stole it,” he said, not as an accusation, but just as a statement.
You nodded, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you looked a bit proud.
“They’ll come looking for you for that. All vehicles of the LAPD are tracked, and any theft is not treated lightly. When they find you, you will be prosecuted to the fullest extend of the law.” You waved him off, rolling your eyes, and he felt a twinge of annoyance at your flippant behavior. Didn’t you know how dangerous it was? You shouldn’t go around telling people you stole from the LAPD, and you definitely shouldn’t have taken him in. You should have left him there—let nature run its course.
“I have been using it for years now. And it was already old and abandoned when I found it.”
“Still,” he sat up, ignoring the sharp flash of pain shooting through him. He needed you to understand. “It’s foolish. You shouldn’t have taken me with you.”
“What?”
“It’s dangerous.”
“You’re dangerous?”
“Yes.” The word hung heavy in the air, drowning out the quiet buzzing coming from the ceiling lamp.
You tilted your head slightly, but to his annoyance, you didn’t seem afraid, more so intrigued. “To me?” you asked, and the question made him wince.
“No,” he whispered. You had saved him. You had let him rest on your bed. If he’d get the chance to, he would spend the rest of his existence trying to repay that debt. Maybe that could be his new existence, his next purpose.
“Then what’s the problem?” you whispered back.
Everything, nothing, he, you. His gaze bore into you, begging you to answer the question for him. How was he possibly supposed to react to that?
You noticed him getting overwhelmed, and backed off, getting up. “It’s okay, take your time. May I now take care of your wound, please?”
It took every training he had ever received not to whimper at the tenderness in your tone. He nodded. At first his eyes stayed glued to the blanket, but when you turned and started rummaging around the room, he followed your every movement. He lost sight of you for a couple of seconds when you walked through a rusty door he hadn’t noticed before, but you joined him back in the room quickly, now carrying some medical supplies.
You laid the things out on the mattress and then moved to his right side, kneeling next to the bed. You found his eyes with your own and then nodded your head toward a chair standing around a small, rickety table. “Your coat is over there. I took it off you because I figured it would be more comfortable. Hope that was okay.”
He nodded. He hadn’t even looked up to confirm whether his coat actually was there.
“I’ll have to lift your shirt, okay?”
K wasn’t sure whether he had ever laughed before, but suddenly he felt the bubbly feeling of humor crawling up his throat. He choked it back down and just mumbled a quick, “Yes.” And then tacked on a “Thank you.” It landed somewhere between ridiculous and confused.
You pulled the blanket down his chest, and then gently slid your hands up his shirt, pushing it upward. Your fingers grazed his stomach and chest, leaving trails of lightning behind. It didn’t hurt, but it should have. It should have hurt, but it didn’t.
It burned, though.
The wound on his lower stomach was covered with a thick piece of gauze, flimsily taped down. “I had to at least stop the bleeding a bit,” you said it like it was an apology and not the nicest thing anyone had ever done for K.
You pulled the strip of tape off him, and the gauze with it. The wound underneath was deep, bloody, and K suddenly felt ashamed of it. He didn’t want you to see him like that. He wasn’t made to be hurt and vulnerable. But when the tips of your fingers swept along the edges of it, an eerie part of him wished you would stuff your fingers into the laceration. Burrow them deep until you were covered in his blood, and he could keep you close and safe.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and hoped you would chalk it off to him being a bit squeamish at the ghastly sight. Then he felt the need to slap himself because he didn’t want you to think of him as fragile.
“I’ll glue it back together now, okay?”
“You don’t have to keep asking.”
You looked up, and when your eyes met, his fingers twitched. You studied him for a moment before continuing your work, reaching for the glue. “Alright, but I think I’ll continue to do so anyway. ‘S just good manners.”
He didn’t answer, he couldn’t; what was there to say?
The glue was familiar in its stickiness, and when it touched the laceration, K instinctively flinched away from it. You placed the hand not holding the glue over his ribs, not pushing or pulling, just a light touch, dragging him away from everything outside of this room, and anchoring him to you, to this moment.
You pressed the edges of the wound together now, sealing everything back inside where it belonged. K hoped that something of you would stay inside him as well; a lash, maybe, or a little bit of the breath you exhaled, which had caressed his skin ever since you kneeled down next to him.
After a couple of seconds, you let go of him and then hummed in satisfaction when the wound stayed closed. “Perfect.”
K shifted a bit, and his hand landed close to where yours rested next to his chest. Without realizing what he was doing, he brushed his fingers against the back of your hand, hypnotized by the way your skin felt so soft, something that seemed impossible considering the brutal world you lived in.
When you moved your hand, he pulled back instantly, shame once again flooding his mind at being caught behaving like… like that. But you didn’t say anything, you didn’t even look at him weirdly, you just turned your hand around and then offered it back to him. Hesitantly, he traced the faint lines running over the palm of your hand, following them from side to side, mapping the constellation that was your skin.
“Thank you.” He sounded out of breath even to himself.
“You’re welcome.” With the hand not caught in his grasp, you pulled his shirt back down, covering him once again with the blanket. The gesture was ridiculous; the softness of the blanket was almost grating next to the feeling of you. “D’you want some painkillers?”
“No,” he exhaled. He closed his fingers around your hand and then furrowed his brows so hard it almost hurt. “Why are you doing this? You’re not supposed to do that.”
“Says who?” You asked and offered him your other hand. He was now clutching both of yours between his, and the sensation was enough to make him feel light-headed.
He shook his head. “Don’t ask that.”
“You know…” You hesitated, before continuing voice low and soft, with just a hint of sadness, “You deserve to not be in pain.”
Ironically, your words might have been one of the most painful sensations he had ever experienced. He’s sure you could feel his hands tremble, but he was too tired to correct himself. He stared down, and the sight of your combined hands set something loose in him that crumbled down, down, until its debris jumbled throughout his body, covering him whole.
You tried to pull your right hand away from him, and for just a second, he didn’t let go. He was stronger than you, no question about it. He could keep you there, in his hands, safe and soft. But then he did let go, because he only wanted what you were willing to give, anything else would be simulated, and he couldn’t continue existing in a world where the only affection he would get was forced.
To his relief, you didn’t pull away completely, in fact, your hand moved up to his face, settling on his cheek and gently urging him to look up. Your eyes were filled with compassion and a kindness so consuming, K had to blink just to not get overwhelmed.
“I don’t know what happened to you, or anything about you, really.” You smiled at him. “But I do know that no one, human or replicant, deserves to feel pain just for existing.”
Your other hand moved from between his, but before he could protest, you grasped his hand, placing it on your chest, right over your heart. Afterward, you placed your hand on his chest, over his heart.
The feeling of your heartbeat, stable, strong, so alive, beneath his palm was only seconded by the implication of the gesture. Your hearts weren’t beating in tune, but if he tried hard enough, maybe he could match his pulse to yours.
His other hand hovered over your form before settling on your cheek. When your thumb started caressing his face, he copied the movement. Your thumb was a little calloused, making him shiver with every stroke, but the skin of your face was warm and soft under his own callouses.
He couldn’t say for how long you two stayed that way. Without windows or clocks, there was no way to tell how much time had passed. It might have been minutes, it might have been an hour. All he could focus on was how right it felt to sit there with you, sharing touches and heartbeats.
When you asked him again after a while whether you could get him some painkillers, he actually did let out a small laugh, and agreed. As you came back holding a bottle of pills and a smile, it was like seeing the sun rise for the first time.
This has probably been said to death already, but in Blade Runner 2049 somebody makes a comment about K "not liking real girls", and while this was said with the implications of it being a personal preference, I think it also really says a lot about how K sees himself. Not that he doesn't like real girls, but that he thinks he doesn't deserve a real girl. He doesn't see himself as real, or deserving of a "real" relationship, so he settles for an artificial one with a girl he knows won't/can't leave him or see him as anything less like everyone else does.
Not to mention the stigma that probably surrounds a replicant x human relationship (though that does make the comment a little strange if that was the case, making it seem like it was a choice he had).
I just think this would also make a really good angst prompt for an K x reader or oc fic
When a slip up of words leads you to finally confess to your best-friend and turns out he feels the same.
Paring: Bestfriend!Ryland Grace x reader
WC: 5.1k
Content: First kiss scenario, fluff, friends to lovers, AU, unedited.
Note: from this request
Masterlist
The light touch of the cool breeze greeted your body, providing a much welcomed relief from this relatively warm late may night. The clouds blanketed the sky with a layer of dark, but the moon still fought, as trying to peek through the layers, to listen in on the conversations you were having with Ryland.
You were out on his apartment balcony, situated on the fourth floor of the complex, overlooking the quiet residential streets behind. The swaying of the trees brought in fresh waves of air, as you welcomed it into your body with the flow of your breathing, closing your eyes, letting a sense of content fill your heart full, a smile slowly coming to rest on your lips. You just stood there, giving a moment just to yourself, letting the comfort of this lovely night embrace you, only the buzzing sounds of nature thumping in your ear, bringing in a liveliness to the rather serene environment.
You slowly opened your eyes, just looking out towards the horizon for a moment, before turning to meet the blue eyes that were already on you, having been observing you in your calm for a little bit now.
You let your eyes wander about his figure, the one of many science t-shirts he wore today catching your eyes. The puns on them always made you roll your eyes a little, but you did come to love seeing him wear one of those, and maybe a reason just was the way the shirts hugged his biceps and highlighted the curves of his upper body.
“I can’t believe I am finally done,” you stated, implying at the fact of receiving the approval for your master’s discretion today, and that you were officially done with the degree. You had been lounging at Ryland’s apartment earlier today, sat sprawled out on one end reading a novel, while he sat on the other end, concentrating on a new research paper that had caught his attention. It was a regular Saturday for both of you, hanging out at one of your apartments, relaxing on your days off. It was during this time the notification had come, followed by your scream that startled Ryland, before you jumped into his arms, cheerily telling him about the approval.
“Yea?” Ryland quipped, his one brow arching up, as he slightly tilted the beer bottle in hand towards your direction in a knowing manner, because it was not too long ago when he had finished his own PhD.
“MmmHmm,” you hummed out, nodding your head. “There were many times where I almost dropped out,” you admitted, chuckling at the memories of struggling during late nights, early morning lectures where the prof did nothing more than rant about some random tangent, and the many breakdowns, which all just seemed very small now.
You saw Ryland turn to look out towards the horizon, leaning in a little, resting his forearms against the railing. His hair gently swayed with the wind, as your eyes took the time to trace the lines of his face. They followed down the curves of his nose, along his cupid's bow, down the divot between his soft lips, and along the angle of his sharp jaw line. In that moment, the moon peaked out from behind the clouds, shining down on the man in front of you, just when he tilted his head to look towards you, his brow raising in question, while the corner of his lips tugging into a small smile.
God, was he beautiful.
And those eyes, they were breathtaking. You still remember the first time you gazed into them. It was the first lab of first year physics. You had felt someone sit on the only empty chair in the room, that was beside. And when you turned over to introduce yourself to your lab partner for the day, and also hoping to make a new friend, that is when you first came face to face with him. The eyes of the man captivated you instantly, and from there on out, every time he was near, they drew you in like having casted a spell on you.
So much was shared through those eyes: the curiosity of meeting you, the growing familiarity when you would say hi to him in the lecture hall, the eagerness to help you when you asked him a question regarding practice problems, the tiredness of shared late study nights to prepare for exams, the unexpectedness of when you asked him to hang out after exams which quickly turned to enthusiasm. As the relationship grew from classmates to that of eventually best friends, so did the depth of the emotion they shared. There was now joy, sadness, achievements, success, regrets, fears, sorrow and many others.
As his eyes just continued to draw you in, and somewhere along the line, the shine behind the way you looked at him turned into something more.
Just like countless times before, today once again, those crystal blue eyes that shined tonight as if waves of the ocean under the full moonlight, capturing you in their embrace, refusing to loosen their hold on you, instead wanting to swallow you whole and drag you down into their depth. And if it hadn’t been for Ryland’s voice that pulled you out, you might have truly let yourself drown.
“What’s got you thinking so hard?” He inquired, clearly wondering about the long stance you had found yourself, trying to ignore the way you had been lost in his eyes, while hoping the darkness of the night would cover the hues on his face that had crept up its way under your gaze. “Oh, I –”
‘You’
Your brain wanted your mouth to scream. To not just tell the man himself, but anyone that would stop to listen on this quiet night. To lay your heart bare, to share with him what had been eating it away, the ache to tell him that somewhere along the way, that it was only his name that your heart remembered how to say.
You didn’t mean to fall for him like this, but there was just something about him that continued to pull you in. However, it was always your friendship that had always come first. There was no way you would want to lose someone as amazing as Ryland Grace in your life over some stupid emotions you couldn’t help but feel.
But with the passage of time and the growing memories you shared together, something seemed to change, this time not in you, but him. It made you wonder, if maybe the skin to skin contact that remained just long night, meant something more. That gaze that would linger on you just long enough for you to catch it, to notice it, to feel an intensity behind them that seemed to be different than what you would share between two friends, was a sign. If the longing that teetered the lines of being just friends, was an indication that maybe, there could be something more.
Sometimes you just wanted to risk it all, however, most of the time, in this regard, you were simply a coward.
Ryland brought the beer bottle in his hand to his lips, taking a sip of the cold liquid, while his gaze remained down, looking at you. Giving you time to figure out whatever has occupied your mind for quite some time now. Your eyes, however, didn’t come up to meet his, instead they remained just little ways down, fixated on the way his adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow, watching his tongue gently rolled over his bottom lip, to catch the little droplet that was left behind, and the way they glisten under the soft light of the moon.
He was so beautiful that your brain couldn’t even help you catch yourself before you muttered ‘pretty’ just under your breath, just a little mummer in the breeze of the night. Despite that, the wind seemed to have carried the words along with it to Ryland’s ear, as a cough erupted from within his chest, as he choked on the liquid that was trying to make its way down his esophagus, taken aback by surprise.
“Sorry – , what did–, say–,” he tried to form sentences amidst his coughing fit, causing your hand to instinctively make its way to his back, rugging soothing circles. Ryland took a moment to calm down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and clearing his throat as he tried to speak. However, once again, before he could form a full sentence, your words intruded, knowing the wind out of his body.
“Can I kiss you?”
It was bold, and you knew it. Had you gotten drunk on a light beer? Or had you become a drunken sailor trying to navigate the tides of his ocean like eyes? You didn’t really know, but the fact was, your mind felt as sober as ever, clear when it had deliberated to give in to its selfish desire of wanting something more. A conscious decision to put your years of friendship on the line. To shift the equilibrium of the see-saw in his direction and see if it would come to a new state of balance or if you would be the one falling forever. All to see, if possibly your observations that led you to the hypothesis, that just maybe, he also had a hint of resemblance of something similar in his heart. That maybe, he too had wished for something more.
Open hearing your words, his body seemed to have stopped breathing just as the swaying of the trees had some to handstill, indicative of an incoming storm.
What? What did you mean? Despite having a PhD in molecular biology, his brain couldn’t seem to comprehend your simple words. Or more like it did, but it just couldn’t believe that it might truly mean what he was thinking.
He must be drunk? Right?
But when your eyes that had still been stuck on his lips, having seen how they had parted upon hearing your sudden ask, seeing the way the moments of his chest had gotten eerily still, finally decided to meet his gaze, he knew exactly what you had meant. Exactly what you were wanting.
“Ry, breath,” you told him, and his body took that as a command, finally letting in the air that it had seemed to have forgotten about. He took deep breaths, trying to find their usual rhythm. Your hand that still reminded on his back, felt hot to his skin even through the fabric of his shirt, but the warmth helped his mind feel grounded. He swears you could likely hear the sounds of his heart thundering against his ribcage, emulating the way of the clouds above in the same way. Ryland’s gaze into your eyes was intense, filled with unspoken emotions, and thoughts that were running in his mind.
For a few moments, that felt like very long minutes, you both stood there, in the stillness of the night, as your eyes communicated what your voices weren’t. Your eyes were inviting, while his blues ones flickered with reluctance, with a hint of the same need as yours.
HIs eyes caught the slow movements of your arm retreating from where its hand was on his back. A sudden sadness reflecting in his eyes at the loss of contact. Ryland clenched his hands into fists to stop himself from just reaching out to you,and pulling you in to capture your lips with his own.
“Won’t you kiss me, Ryland?” you asked, with a venomous sweetness lacing your voice, as you tilted your head to the side, looking up at him with that hypnotic gleam, that if a person could become drunk from just a gaze, he would have been declared an alcoholic a long time ago.
It was as if you were his star, and he was a planet in your orbits, being pulled in with a gravity that was ready to unravel him to his core.
Ryland abruptly closed his eyes shut, gently shaking his head, trying to gain back some sense of control over his emotions that were trying to drown him, and he just can’t let that happen. Well, at least not until he was fully sure that it was truly as it seemed.
In that moment, what he didn’t see was the way your brows furrowed, and your lips protruding outwards. What he did notice was the shift in your presence, as you took a step away from his figure, causing his lids to open in an instance, his pupils shaking with waryness, trying to find your gaze once again. However, you were already in the process of turning away, as you began to speak again.
“I see. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. Please just forget about —”
“Wait! Wait –, no, no, no,” Ryland exclaimed frantically, shaking his hands in front of him in an attempt to put emphasis on his words, and to stop your attention from deviating away from his direction.
“No, I don’t want to,” he continued on, and hearing this the pout on your face instantly became a frown. This further elevated his disoriented state, while he tried to find the right words to convey to you what had truly been going on in his head.
To tell you, that he wanted to kiss you, and that the thought had plagued his mind for so long. To tell you how disgusted he would feel with himself, because he wasn’t supposed to feel this way for his best friend. But he couldn’t help it, because you were just so kind, just so caring, empathic, smart, beautiful, and so much more. You were everything that he just couldn’t help falling for you. He wanted to tell you, but his brain had seemed to short circuit due to his heightened emotions that he wasn’t even able to form proper sentences.
“No, I don’t want to forget, I –” He tried again, breathing heavily. He paused, his eyes catching yours, that were waiting for him patiently, giving him the time to collect himself, and preparing themselves for the worse, ready to face the rejection that he might throw at them. He had thoughts of wanting to confess to you someday, to tell you just how much he had started to like you, and dreamed of you also feeling the same, but it wasn’t like this. He didn’t want to do it like this.
“Ask me tomorrow,” he finally blurted out, with the last of the energy his brain could muster up, just as the rain started to trickle down from the clouds. You saw his shoulders slump, feeling guilty, because in this moment there was nothing more he could say to you than to mutter this request. Your expression was that of confusion, clearly indicative that you did not understand what he was referring to. “Please,” he pleaded, with not just his words, but also with his eyes.
“Ask me to kiss you, tomorrow.”
Oh. You voiced a breathy laugh, uttering a little ‘what?’, taken a little aback, but all you were met was his desperate stare, as you both stood there silent, with the sounds of nothing but the thunder and rain hitting the ground.
"If we are really going to do this, I want you to be sure,” He was the one to break the vow of silence this time, a seriousness casting over the environment with his words.
“I am sure.” Your reply was firm, with no sign of hesitation, as you took a step towards him, causing him to take one backwards. He just shook his gently, causing some of his messy, blonde locks to fall atop his forehead. “I need you to be sober,” he confessed, making you aware of his reason for hesitation.
“Seriously, Ry? You questioned, feeling a little irritated now, as you crossed your arms in front of your chest, but all you got in return was that same stare of plea. “I barely had half a bottle of a light beer, so I am not drunk,” you stated, putting an emphasis near the end of your sentence, taking another step towards his direction.
Ryland was now backed up against the railing of the balcony, the water from the rain that had collected on its surface clinging to his shirt near the lower back. He watched as you took another step forward, causing him to gulp at the unyielding glint in your eyes. You were only a foot away from him, before you leaned in, stopping just an inch away from his lips.
“Ry?” you whispered his name, urging him to say something, but the way he could feel your breath fanning his lips, his mind was more focused on the closeness of your bodies in this context, using every fibre in this body to stop himself from closing the distance. So all he could mutter out was a breathy ‘please’.
You let out a sigh, retreating your body, and putting some distance between yourself and him, before turning around and heading towards the entrance, but before you stepped inside, you looked over your shoulder with a beaming smile.
‘Okay, I will ask you tomorrow.’
Ryland watched you through the window, as you made your way across his living room, into the adjacent hallway, and out of his sight. He assumed that you had likely left to wind down for the night and head to sleep, leaving in him a mess of his own emotions. His knees had become weak, as they gave in, causing his body to plop down on the pavement floor, resting his head in his hands, back pressed against the railing.
His face was flushed red. His heartbeat still rampant against his chest, drumming in his ear against the rhythm of the rain hitting the concrete ground below. He could feel the pulse in his throat. Only the droplets of rain hitting his back provided some relief while his body felt like it was burning as if being roasted over a flame. Ya, he wasn’t getting any sleep tonight, that was for sure.
—--
It was the rays of the morning sun kissing your skin with warmth that woke you out of your slumber the next day, and it was when you brought the blanket up to cover your face to shield your eyes from the brightness that you smelled his scent from the fabric. It was then when your brain remembered how you had stayed at his place the night before, and the conversation that had taken shape prior.
This resulted in propping yourself up on your elbow to look at the man that should have been beside you. You both would share the same bed when you would sleep over, often falling asleep while watching movies, but that definitely wasn’t the case this time. As expected, you didn’t find him, only a completely empty space under the covers, but what you did come across was an orange post-it on the bed stand, with a writing that you recognized instantly.
‘Going out to get breakfast from your favourite place, be back in 45 minutes’ it had said. You could tell by the curves of the lines that he had written the note hastily, as if trying to run away from something.
A small smile came to a rest on your face, as you gazed upon the note in your hand, before you broke into a laughter of embarrassment, dropping your head into your arms. You just sat there for a while, the conversation and the words spoken last night playing in your head, over and over again. The longer you sat there, the more agitated you became, to the point where you eventually found yourself under the water of a cold shower trickling down your body.
You had hoped that it would help you clear your mind, help you get a better grip on your thoughts and emotions, and a better idea of what you were going to do now. However, by the time you had finished brushing your teeth with a pink toothbrush that always sat beside his orange one, putting on a pair of clothes from the multiple that had accumulated in his closet, to purposefully using his perfume instead of your own that you carried everywhere with you in your bag, your emotions just felt even more heightened.
Frankly, you were scared.
Whatever was in the air last night that made you blurt out your feelings that you had been so desperately trying to bury wasn’t there any more, and only the fear of ruining the most precious friendship that you had built in your life remained. A fear that it will never be the same anymore. A fear that what you had seen in his eyes wasn’t the same love that you felt. That it wasn't what you were hoping it to be, and that you would never see that same emotion behind his eyes ever again. Your mind wanted to apologize to him as soon as he walked in from the front door. Apologise to him for your behaviour from last night. Ask him to forget what had slipped from your lips, beg him to remove the memory from his mind. All in the hope that it wouldn't affect the friendship you both had built, that the connection between you too would remain the same. In the hopes that nothing would change.
But…
You wanted it to change.
You selfishly want it to be more. Something different, something that allows you to hold his hand in public, to kiss him in front of the world as a declaration of your love. Something that would allow you to call him just yours. And a part of you was hoping, especially after what he had said last night, that maybe there was a possibility of something more.
It was the sounds of the front door opening that brought you out of the train of thoughts you were on. You heard the shuffling, and the sound of footsteps you instantly, recognized coming from the living room. You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself, before you got off the bed and made your way to him.
The smell of the food is what hit you first, catching him setting a bag down on the small table. You slowly made your way into the space, making your presence known to him. You felt a little unease in your stomach, fiddling with your hands behind your back, your teeth lightly nibbling on your bottom lip.
Oh, you were nervous. You still haven't decided what you are going to do, but you’ll just let him guide the flow of how the rest of this morning will go.
“Moring,” Ryland called out to you, turning towards you with a small smile, but refusing to meet your eyes, before quickly returning his attention to taking out the takeout boxes from the plastic bag. “I got your favourite, let's eat before it gets even more cold,’ he invited, his voice coming out even shakier than he had expected.
A sense of dread washed over you, the uncomfortable tension in the air sticking to your skin, making your hands feel clammy. At the moment, you just decided to apologize for last night, and hope you both will just be able to leave it in the past. “Ry, I am so, so sorry. Please, let’s just forget —,”
“No,” he cut you off abruptly, making you pause on what you were about to continue to say, as silence set in the space between you. It was quiet for a moment, as if he was running through the consequences of what he was about to do one last time, before his blue eyes finally met yours for the first time today.
They were intense.
Intense with emotions that seemed to match your own. His mind had also been pondering since the conversation last night, barely getting any sleep. Only the thoughts of the possibilities were on his mind when he had headed out this morning. And the questions of ‘what it would mean’ were the only things that filled his mind on his way. What it would mean to finally cross the line that you both had been teetering on for quite some time.
A soft call of your name left his lips, as it settled the space between. He saw the way your eyes gazed him
upon patiently waiting for him to continue.
“Do you like me?” He questioned, with caution, hoping the answer would be along the lines of a yes, given the event of the past night but fearing that somehow it might truly be something that maybe he wasn’t fully ready to hear at this point. Despite trying to prepare himself that even if you hadn’t meant it like that, it was okay. That it would be fine. That is what he had told himself on his way back.
“Ya”
Your answer was instant, not giving his mind any time to let the negative affirmations run rampant. But he still couldn’t believe it. Did you really feel the same way he did? Had you also spent countless nights thinking about him the way his brain couldn’t get off the topic of you? Did you also think about those unintentional brushes of skin? The friendly touches that sent electricity running through his veins.
“No, but, like, do you really ‘like’ like me?” he questioned. He needed to be fully sure. Affirmative of what you truly felt before he crossed a line that he can never recover from. A line he never wanted to return to.
“Yes. Ryland, I do” you stated, watching as his breathing staggered, his lips parted, trying to assist his lungs to get more air to pump to his heart that seemed to be running miles. At this point, his heart was beating so fast that even you could probably hear it beating in its chamber from the distance you were from him. Why were you standing so far away from me? He internally whined, needing you to be closer, to hold you in his arms, and never let go, and lucky he didn’t have to wait too long, when you started to step closer with each word you spoke there on.
“I like you a lot, actually,” you admit, like you hadn’t already made it clear to him. Taking your first step towards him, feeling a little confident now seeing how flustered he had gotten, very clearly evident by the way a hue of red had spread across his face, up to his ears, and down his neck.
“And I have, for quite some time,” you continued on, taking an even bigger step in his direction this time, feeling eager to close the gap more quickly now.
“Do you like me, Ryland?” and as you finished your passage to convey your feeling for him, you had traversed the distance that you had set itself between your bodies previously. You stood face to face with him, the tips of your feet brushing against his, as you gazed up at him, waiting expectantly, because it was his turn to speak what his heart wanted to say.
“Ya,” he blurted out through an exhale of a breath that unknowingly had remained stuck in his lungs. His voice came louder than he meant it, and his response was even faster than yours, somehow. “Ya?” you questioned, a little teasingly now, because a sense of relief had finally dawned upon you, having gotten confirmation that in fact he did feel the same for you.
“Yes!” he exclaimed this time, the grips of his brain on his body coming loose, because it was his heart that held the wheel now, going at a speed his brian just could not keep up with. He wanted to tell you, about what he truly felt for you, how he had tried so hard for so long to get a handle on his feelings, to tell his brain to stop, because you were his best friend. His dearest friend that he couldn’t afford to lose due to that stupid crush that he had developed on you. However, it wasn’t his brain that couldn’t stop thinking about you, but rather his heart that couldn’t stop calling out your name, hoping that someday it would reach your ears.
He tried to find the words, but they just didn’t come to him, so his heart instead jumped at the chance his lagging brain had given him, to blurt out what it really wanted.
“Can you ask me?”
There was a desperation laced behind his word, as his eyes pleaded to you. Despite that, and exactly knowing what he was referring to, you decided to play with him just a little further, like you did so often by feigning ignorance to his words.
“Ask you what?” your inquired, an overly sweetness coating your words, giving him the best pair of your doe eyes, which only earned you a groan of your name from him, and damn did you find it hot, but that wasn’t the point right now.
“Please,” he was basically begging you at this point, and heck he was ready to even get down on his knees for you. A little chuckle left your lips, before a lasting grin found its way to them. You looked at him for a moment, your eyes shining with nothing but love, before you finally gave into his plea.
“Can you kiss me, Ry?”
And as those words left your lips, his own were already on yours, pressing softly before taking your reciprocation as yes to dive further. You finally had what you had been wanting for so long. What you had been doing for so long, and it was exactly how you had dreamed. The way he kissed you with care, with love and with hunger that of an explorer lost in the desert finally coming across a well full of water. The way his arms had found their way around your waist, his hands resting on your lower back, pressing you against his body with a gentle touch.
When the breath of air had finally run out, you both pulled away. Along the way, his hands had found yours, the warmth of his skin radiating on yours. You both stood there, gazing into each other's eyes. There was so much to say. So much you both wanted to tell each other, to lay your heart bare in front of each other, but nothing came to fruition, because the eyes always told more than words ever could.
It was your laugh that had finally broken the silence, bringing you both out of the daze you had fallen upon, a contagious infection that even he had caught on. It wasn’t just that he had caught, he had also caught a wonderful disease known as love.
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